What Kind of Heart Doesn't Look Back
by theVisforVampire
Summary: It felt wrong to feel jealous of the memory of a dead man, the lingering love that Marion still bore him, when he had a lifetime of memories to make with her.


**A/N: There's no real rhyme nor reason to this AU one-shot. Robin is dead, Marion has just given birth to Guy's son, and Allan has remained with their family. Let your imaginations fill in the rest! :)**

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><p>When Guy entered, his eyes immediately went to his young wife in bed, cradling the tiny infant in her arms tenderly, kissing the top of its downy black fuzz.<p>

Allan was leaning against the bedpost next to them, watching with a soft look of pride and grief on his face, as though the bairn were bittersweet to behold.

The moment he felt, rather than heard, Guy's presence, he snapped to attention, distancing himself from Marion by a good two feet, smoothing his expression down into one of polite disinterest, the look of any good servant. And yet Allan was more than just a servant, and despite Guy's irritation with the man, he knew he was loyal and well-meaning, and a good friend to his wife. Though the friendship at times did rankle and provoke his jealousy, he was now far past the point of pushing the matter upon Marion, who always dismissed his jealousy with a cool gaze and a simple declaration of her love for him. Nonetheless, he felt a frisson of irritation at the sight of him, if for no other reason than he had been Robin's man. He forgot, momentarily, that it had been he who had stolen him from Robin. Allan's presence in Marion's life was a cross that Guy had to bear.

"My lord," Allan murmured.

"Don't stand on formality," Guy said tiredly, waving a hand.

Allan immediately slouched his posture again.

"How is the little mite?" Guy asked softly, approaching the bed.

"Your son is very well," Marion smiled tearfully up at him.

"What is this?" Guy asked, puzzled. "It is a happy occasion, is it not? And yet you both act as though…" he trailed off.

"What shall we name him?" Guy said after a pause. "I know we had discussed Declan and Marek at length, but perhaps Raoul? It seems a comely name for a comely lad."

"I thought perhaps Robin as his middle name," Marion whispered, not meeting Guy's eyes.

Only through sheer force of will did he not rear back from shock. Robin? As in the Hood? His fists clenched at his sides, and he did not miss Allan's protective stance immediately stiffen to attention. "Easy, Allan," he said wearily, relaxing his posture. Even now, after all this time, Allan could never fully be at ease around him. For some reason, he felt wounded, but it didn't do to dwell on it, for in truth he did not care so very much. It was something he would brush off after a momentary hurt and then forget about, never to think back upon it again. It was Guy's nature, his aloof temperament and hard outlook that forced him to take not just this action, but many others.

Marion's eyes looked imploringly up at him. He could see, could he not, how much this would mean to her? Mean to everyone? It would show the world that the old demons had been put to rest and that a small piece of Robin could live on. She would not insult her husband by asking to name the child after her lover and ex-husband, but surely a middle name could suffice to honor the man she had once loved so deeply?

She understood now that while she and Robin had loved each other, it had not been enough and would never have been enough. He loved England first and foremost and duty would always keep them apart. Now, years later, she was forced to face reality: the prospect of raising children in the cold of an English winter did not sound romantic to her, much as they had once appealed to the whimsical nature of her youth. If Richard had perished and John made king, Robin would always be an outlaw. Could she subject herself to rearing their brood in the forest, constantly looking over her shoulder in fear, while their father gallivanted about the country for those in need of help?

Robin needed a lot of things, she understood now, but she had never been one of them. She needed someone to need her, perhaps not in the obsessed way that Guy did, but need nonetheless - and Robin had just wanted to be the savior. He needed the damsel in distress. Helping others was part of who he was, part of what had made her love him. It had put a light into his eyes and a confidence in his step, making it almost a swagger. Sometimes she wondered whether he had not simply preferred to stay with his absent King in the Holy Land, where he could forget about her and Locksley and all the troubles at home. The loyalty that she'd once so admired in him now only served to remind her that she would have always been second in his affection to King Richard. She had waited five years for the boys he loved to return from the war she had asked him not to go to. Part of her felt like she was still waiting for him, but the version of him she carried in her heart had perished in the Holy Land long ago. She would always be in love with the boy who left her, the one whose spirit lives on in Acre, but no longer did he hold the first place in her heart. Slowly, he'd relinquished his hold on her and allowed Gisborne, unlikely though it seemed at first glance, to take his place. Marion liked to think that Robin was gracious enough to allow her to move on and build a future with her husband.

He had once said he'd thought of her while in the Holy Land, but she imagined it had only been in a lurid way to give him pleasure when no other means were available. Now, however, she saw that he liked the idea of her - the spirited lass from home who he would return home to marry, to love, to cherish. To raise a family with, a life with. These were all things he had undoubtedly wanted, but only in a vague sense of "eventually". Robin had never needed her the way she had wanted him to and the realization hurt her, yet when she looked upon her babe, she imagined for a terrifying moment, that she saw Robin's face, cherubic and infant-like, staring back at her with such open trust.

"You ask much of me," Guy said simply, not tearing his gaze away from her face and that of his son.

"I would not ask were it not important, Guy."

Guy inclined his head in acknowledgment. "But all the same."

He darted a glance at Allan, intending to throw him from the room for what was bound to be a very emotional, tumultuous discussion with his wife, but was startled to see the broken anguish in the man's eyes. The same expression he saw now mirrored in Marion's face. Guy took a deep, shuddering breath.

They still mourned their hero, he noted bitterly.

"Robin was a great man. He did so much good." Marion pressed a hand to her heart, eyes glittering with tears that thankfully she had the good sense not to shed. At least not in his presence. "It hurts my heart to think that he died alone with…without growing up."

Guy's forehead furrowed in a frown. Robin was a man full-grown. What in heaven did she mean?

"He roamed the forest as an adult much as he had done when we were children," Marion explained quietly. "Always on the run, living hand to mouth, thinking of others before himself. He never had a chance to be a husband, a father, or any of those small things that others have had a chance to have. His entire life had been a mission to do good but he did so not with the gravity of a man but with the light-hearted pluck of a boy. He missed his whole life, the life he could have -should have- had."

Guy knew that she didn't hold it against him personally that Robin had died and he had lived and furthermore, he knew that she didn't mean for her words to come out as veiled accusations, but he felt the jab all the same.

Robin was a great man - did that mean that he, Guy, was not?

Robin did so much good - and what did Guy have to show for his life? When had Guy ever put anyone, other than Marion, before himself?

"He died alone, Guy. An ignominious death." Tears pooled in her eyes, making her eyelashes spiky.

Allan's face had not lost its tortured countenance either, Guy noticed. He forced his heart to soften against the raging sense of betrayal he felt rising in his breast, little fingers of jealousy curling around his heart, causing it to spasm painfully.

"And what would you have me do, wife?" he asked softly. "Love a child who bears his name? A living reminder of what you have lost?"

"You should love him because he is yours. He came from us," Marion said sharply. "No matter what name he bears, he is your son."

Guy's heart ached for his wife, it did, truly, even though he never expressed how indebted to her he felt for putting aside old feelings and embracing her new life with him as his wife, by his side, come what may. He never fully understood, though he tried, the traitorous betrayal she herself felt when she lived with the enemy, lay with him in his bed, spent her days as his wife, when all the while she saw ghosts of Robin fluttering around in her head. He didn't know when it had changed that she had let go of Robin for good and became a true wife to him rather than a woman who merely went through the motions, playing a part in some godforsaken tragedy.

He knew in the beginning she had hated herself for liking him, for allowing him his husbandly rights, despite her initial instinct of loyalty to a dead man. He knew it pained her that he was gone, perhaps she still felt the loss of her lover, or perhaps it was survivor's guilt. Guy didn't know and he rather thought that she didn't either.

"Robin would have been proud to have a namesake," Allan said quietly from his place by the bed. "He liked children."

Guy's eyes flashed to the other man's, remembering the story Allan had told him of how Robin had cared for his bastard son. The one that Guy had left in the woods to be trampled by thoughtless people or eaten by hungry animals. A sick sense of shame welled in him as he looked upon the little boy Marion held in her arms with so much care and love. He knew without a doubt he could never do the same to this child and he felt shame that he had done so with another in the past.

With a sudden clarity, he realized that this was Robin's child. Though neither Allan or Marion voiced it, he knew that in their minds, however subconscious it may have been, that this was the child that Marion should have had with Robin.

There was no jealousy or anger as he realized this, only a sad sense of defeat as he came to the conclusion he could never fill the shoes of a dead man. Marion loved him, yes, he had no cause to doubt that, but only because he filled the void that Robin left behind. Robin was her first love, possibly her true love, and she had loved him. Perhaps not for as long as she would have wanted and certainly not as well-loved as she should have done, but all the same, he was the man she had wanted. Guy would forever only be second-best, clutching at scraps of affection and intimacy that she would have freely given to Robin without a moment's hesitation.

Sometimes when she looked at him, it was like she was surprised to see him there. As though she expected another -Robin, always Robin- to be in his place. The light would dim from her eyes a bit and though she always greeted him warmly and affectionately, he couldn't miss the brief glimpse of sorrow she carried with her like a tell-tale scar for all the world to see.

But it was Guy here with her now. Not her former love. It was her husband to whom she looked to with such pleading eyes, awaiting his answer. Robin had departed this earth, but he, Guy, was still here. It felt wrong to feel jealous of the memory of a dead man, the lingering love that Marion still bore him, when he had a lifetime of memories to make with her that would in the end, come to mean far more to her because they were grounded in reality, not in broken dreams and abandoned hopes.

Guy could see she didn't think he would agree to the child bearing Robin's name as it's middle name, and he couldn't blame her. He had given no indication in the past that he would relish the reminder of the Hood and they rarely brought him up in conversation, in mutual fear of what else would arise and come to light if his name was uttered in the other's presence. He had, in short, given her no reason to think that he would approve bestowing the Hood's name on his son and heir.

So when he spoke, his words surprised even him, but he was rewarded by the sparkle of love and flash of gratitude that crossed Marion's face.

"I think Robin Raoul has a nice ring to it."


End file.
